When Love Runs Cold
by Amberlynn
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER! Please visit my website listed in my profile for more stories!
1. Default Chapter

Small streams engulfed the smooth glass of the window, mirroring the face on their inside. The tears could go unnoticed, so clear were they against the fair skin. Down below, the familiar voice of the city faded from her ears, replaced by the more familiar voice that she so terrifyingly embraced.  
  
She must have done something wrong. After all, he had said over and over that it was her fault; that she was to blame for what happened to her.  
  
Desperately she strived to be the perfection he pushed her to be. Yet with each passing day, it seemed as though his standards fluctuated wildly, along with his anger.  
  
Her head hung to her chest, and she cried freely. She cried for the life that she had come to depend on, for the past that tormented her mercilessly, for the future that she could not see.  
  
The front door opened, and she whipped around, a small gasp escaping from her lips.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mommy!" her six-year-old daughter cried, as she broke free of the hand that held hers and rushed to her mother's arms.  
  
The tears were brushed quickly away with the back of her hand as she knelt and held out her arms. The giggling child lunged forward, colliding with her mother as she threw her small arms around the slender neck. "I missed you!"  
  
Her mother laughed. "Sweetie, you were only gone for four hours. But I missed you, too," she finished as she kissed the little nose.  
  
"Hey, Mon," the voice came softly from the door, as he walked through. Her eyes relaxed noticeably when she saw him, and she rose from the floor and greeted him. "Hi, Chandler."  
  
"Jesus, Mon, what's wrong?"  
  
She shook her head. "Nothing," she mouthed.  
  
He shot her a look of disbelief as he knelt down. "Okay, cutie, I'll see you later," he smiled at the little girl.  
  
"Bye, Chand-ler!" Emily ran to hug him farewell. "I'll miss you!"  
  
"Ditto, sweetie," he told her as he kissed her forehead. "Be good to your mother." He stood and looked pointedly at Monica as he turned to leave.  
  
When the door closed, Monica turned to her daughter. "Okay, Emily, what do you want for dinner?"  
  
"Hmm," she thought with her hand to her chin. "Macaroni and cheese with cut-up hot dogs!"  
  
"Chandler is a bad influence on you, you know that?" Monica smiled as she walked to the refrigerator and began to pull out the hot dogs, milk, butter, and broccoli. Emily groaned at the sight of vegetables.  
  
"Broccoli, Mom?" she protested.  
  
"Absolutely. You need to eat vegetables, too. Of course, we could always change the menu to brussels sprouts."  
  
"I like broccoli," the six-year-old proclaimed.  
  
Monica chuckled. "You don't have to go that far, sweetheart," she replied as she filled the pot with water and set it on the heating stove. "Why don't you go over to Chandler and Joey's while I finish dinner?"  
  
"Okay," Emily said excitedly. "When's Daddy getting home?"  
  
Monica stopped in mid-stir. "Um, I don't know, sweetie."  
  
"Can Chandler come over for dinner?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Yay!" Emily hopped to the floor and rushed out the door and across the hall.  
  
Monica sank into one of the chairs and allowed all the worry to rush back. Where was Paul? Probably out drinking. Her heart dropped at the thought of him coming home drunk. Shaking her head slightly, she got up and finished cooking.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Emily returned, dragging Chandler with her. His eyes lit up when he saw the steaming pot. "All right! Mac and cheese with hot dogs!" He hi-fived Emily, who giggled.  
  
"You're a kid at heart," Monica teased as she set the plates out on the table.  
  
"True," he replied as he opened the cupboards and set out the glasses and silverware. Monica poured water with lemon, and Emily placed napkins in the center of the table while Monica set out a casserole dish of macaroni and a bowl of broccoli.  
  
They laughed and talked throughout the meal, and Monica couldn't help but notice the closeness between her daughter and Chandler. It was almost like they were a family. They almost were, she thought. Paul was never home to see his daughter. He worked constantly, and drank continuously. This was the picture she had in mind when she married Paul, not the nightmare that she lived through everyday.  
  
Emily put her plate in the sink. "Mom, can I watch some TV?"  
  
Monica checked her watch. "Sweetie, it's already 8:30. It's your bedtime."  
  
Chandler knelt beside Emily. "Please?" he pled, his lower lip quivering. Emily watched him for a moment, then pressed the side of her face to his and mimicked his expression. "Please, Mom?" she added.  
  
Monica looked at the two and fought to keep a straight face. "Oh, all right, Emily. But just ten minutes."  
  
"Okay!" she ran to the couch and reached for the remote control.  
  
Chandler looked to Monica. "I'll help you do the dishes," he offered.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Once the dishes were done, Monica turned to Emily. "Ten minutes is up."  
  
"Aw, Mom!"  
  
"Uh-uh, love, it's time for bed," Monica reinforced.  
  
"Chandler!" Emily complained, looking to him for help.  
  
"Sorry, Em, your mother's right. Bed."  
  
"Okay," she moaned as she walked to her mother and kissed her. "Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight, Em."  
  
"Goodnight, Chandler," Emily hugged him.  
  
"Sweet dreams, punkin," he replied, then watched her walk into her room. "She's a great kid, Mon," he said as he turned around to face her.  
  
"She sure is," Monica smiled in the direction of her daughter's room. "And she loves you so."  
  
"Yeah," he replied wistfully. "It must be nice."  
  
"What?  
  
"This," he gestured all around him. "All of this. Having a family. A daughter who is just like you, in every way. A husband who loves you."  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes at that moment, and he noticed. "What? Did I say something?"  
  
She shook her head, inside vehemently denying her true feelings. "No, nothing. It's just that I am lucky. And happy." She forced her lips to widen, showing her teeth in a false smile.  
  
"I'm glad," he said softly, then pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. "I better get going. Joey has an audition tomorrow, and as his roommate, I have the honor of being his reading partner." He grimaced and Monica laughed, the first time in a long time, he noted. "Bye," he raised his hand slightly as he released her and walked out.  
  
Monica stood for a moment, looking at the door, and then went over to the couch where Emily had been, picked up the remote, and turned the television on to the news. Watching only halfheartedly, her thoughts were a million miles away, wandering back to when she was first married, before Emily. It was only after the wedding, a result of the quick courtship, that she and Paul truly began to have problems. They would argue constantly, usually ending with Paul storming out and not returning until early the next morning, hungover and subdued.  
  
Her eyes grew heavy, and she allowed them to close. She would rest for just a minute.  
  
  
  
  
  
Several hours later, the door opened swiftly, crashing against the opposite wall with a bang, and a man with sandy blond hair and a tall stature stumbled in, waking Monica. "I'm home," he slurred.  
  
"Paul," Monica only stated.  
  
"Yes, dear?" he snorted, and then laughed loudly.  
  
"Shh, Emily's asleep," she whispered, gesturing for him to do the same. "Where were you? I suppose down the street again."  
  
"I don't have to tell you nothin'," he mumbled, then trudged to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Where's the beer?"  
  
"We're out."  
  
"Then get me some!"  
  
"Paul, it's one o'clock in the morning!"  
  
"Shut up!" he cried, pushing her away from him. "Just go get me some!"  
  
"But Paul-"  
  
"I said shut up!" he yelled again, swinging his hand and hitting her squarely on the cheekbone. She cried out softly as her head whipped to the side, the momentum causing her to fall. He muttered something as he slammed the refrigerator shut and wobbled to the couch and flopped down.  
  
Monica rose slowly, looking at her husband, who was now snoring lightly. She walked quietly over to the bedroom and shut the door.  
  
Once inside, she rested against the sturdy wood, tears spilling from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.  
  
Clearing her eyes with her fingers, she quickly changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, bringing them up to her neck, desperately seeking comfort. Her cheek ached. She brought her fingers to the skin and winced. The site was swollen and tender, and she was sure it was bruised. She buried her face in the pillow and cried.  
  
A couple hours later, her eyes opened when she heard the bedroom door. Paul walked in, somewhat sober, stripped down to his boxers, and slipped under the comforter beside her. They lay silently for several minutes, then he turned to her, looking over her shoulder. "Babe, you asleep?"  
  
Her eyes remained closed, but her ears listened. "Babe, I'm really sorry. You know I love you, and wouldn't ever hurt you. It's that damn Conkel that keeps pissing me off with his merger shit at work. He's pushing me too hard. It's just been a hard week." He looked at her once more. "You're asleep, I guess," he observed as he lay on his back again and closed his eyes.  
  
Only when his snores could be heard did her eyes opened slightly to dispel silent tears.  
  
  
  
  
  
She woke early and immediately saw that Paul had already risen to go to work. A small sigh escaped involuntarily, and she sat up, looking at the alarm clock at the bedside. 6:30. Swinging her legs over the side, she stood up and walked into the kitchen to start breakfast.  
  
The door opened, and she turned to see Chandler walk in. "Good morning!" he smiled as he walked to the table and sat down. "We're out of coffee, and I was wondering if I could borrow some," he explained his presence.  
  
"Sure," Monica smiled as she poured them both a cup, and then sat down beside him.  
  
"Oh, my God, Mon!" Chandler cried as he spotted the bruised cheek. "What happened?"  
  
Her fingers immediately flew to the offended area. "I got up during the night to get a drink, and bumped into the doorframe."  
  
His eyes searched hers intensively. "Mon," he warned.  
  
Her eyes filled with tears when she saw his face, and he sprang from his chair and gripped both of her arms. "Is Emily up?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is Emily up?"  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
He took her hand and pulled her up and out the door. "Wait, what about Emily?" she cried.  
  
"Don't worry," he stated, opening his door. "Hey Joe!"  
  
The black barca lounger swiveled around to reveal a sleepy Joey in his bathrobe. "Yeah."  
  
"Can you go over to Monica's and wait for Emily to get up, feed her breakfast, and make sure she gets on the school bus?"  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Monica and I need to talk. Besides, there's breakfast over there and…"  
  
"Yeah, baby!" Joey lept from the chair and walked out the door. "See ya!" his voice came back.  
  
Chandler looked at Monica. "Sit," he instructed, and she sank into the bright yellow cushions of the couch. He sat beside her. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing, Chandler, I was just getting a drink…"  
  
"Don't give me that bullshit, Mon, what happened?" he said seriously, taking her hand in his own and rubbing it comfortingly.  
  
Again her eyes grew wet, and this time, she did nothing to prevent them. "He.." she whispered. "He…hit me," she finished disbelievingly.  
  
"What!" Chandler jumped up as he roared. "That good for nothing, scum-sucking, son of a BITCH! Where is he? Where is he? I'll kill him!"  
  
"No, Chandler!" her hand shot up and pulled him back down. "It was my fault." She hung her head as she said it.  
  
"Monica, no!" he said forcedly, as he lifted her chin with his fingers. "It was not your fault. Nothing that you could have done would warrant this kind of behavior from him. Nothing, do you hear me?"  
  
She nodded, a doubtful look in her eyes. He read it perfectly and pulled her to him, stroking her hair gently. "It's okay," he soothed her fears as she clung to him and let her tears soak through his shirt. "Everything's going to be okay. You'll need to report this."  
  
She pulled back. "No! I can't do that! There's no telling what he'll do if I go to the police."  
  
"Monica, you have to!"  
  
"No, I wont!" she insisted.  
  
"Then I can't help you," he stated sadly.  
  
"Please, Chandler? I need you. You can't tell anyone. Not Joey, not Phoebe, or anyone else. Especially not Ross or Rachel. I need you to be there for me." Her hand went to his face deploringly.  
  
He looked into her eyes for a long time, before he sighed, "All right. You have me."  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, and he smiled as he kissed her in a friendly kiss.  
  
Monica didn't know what happened inside her at that moment, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, deepening the kiss. The surprising thing was, he responded in similar fashion, opening his mouth over hers and pressing her against him. Monica moaned and ran her hands through his hair, then Chandler came to and pulled away, looking into her eyes, trying to read the expression that rested there. 


	2. When Dawn Breaks the Silence

"Come on, cutie," Monica smiled at Emily as the little girl yawned loudly in protest, "Get up and get dressed. Do you want me to help you pick out an outfit?"  
  
"Uh-uh," she shook her head, and Monica had to stifle a chuckle at her daughter's inherited traits.  
  
"Okay," she acquiesced, "but hurry up. I made you waffles."  
  
"The Mickey Mouse ones?"  
  
"Yup. And Chandler's going to take you to the bus stop today."  
  
"Yay!" Emily cried, suddenly awake, and hopped out of bed. Opening her dresser, she pulled out a maroon sweater and blue jeans, and struggled to get them on. Monica started towards her to help, and then stopped as she realized her help probably would not be well-received. Smiling to herself, she watched as Emily pulled her head through the narrow neck of the fabric.  
  
"How do I look, Mommy?"  
  
Monica studied her daughter. "Prettier than any other little girl I know."  
  
"Mommy! You don't know any little girls besides me!" Emily said as she put her hands on her hips dramatically.  
  
"I don't?"  
  
"No. You only know old people."  
  
"Old people?" Monica asked, surprised. "Who are you talking about?"  
  
"You're old," she replied. "Chandler and Joey are old. Phoebe and-"  
  
"I get it, I get it," Monica held up her hand as she laughed. "Well, I'm going to take my 'old' self into the kitchen and finish breakfast." She left Emily to finish getting ready.  
  
In the kitchen, she saw Joey still sitting at the table, sipping coffee and chuckling as he read through the morning comics.  
  
"Joey, when you're old and gray, you'll still be coming here for food, won't you?"  
  
"As long as you're offering," he glanced at her, then turned his attention back to the paper.  
  
She smacked the back of his head lightly as she laughed. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she sat beside him and flipped through the morning headlines.  
  
Emily appeared, running through the large living space and sliding into her chair at the table. "Mmm, waffles!"  
  
"Yeah!" Joey exclaimed. Monica smiled as she put two large waffles on Joey's plate, and a small one on Emily's. It was then that she noticed Chandler's coffee cup on the table. Had he been here? She picked it up and debated on pouring it out.  
  
The door opened and Chandler strolled in. "Good morning, children."  
  
"Chandler!" Emily squealed.  
  
"Emily!" he squealed back, as she catapulted into his arms and kissed his nose. "What are we having for breakfast?" he looked to Monica.  
  
"Waffles!" Emily grinned.  
  
"This kid is after my own heart," Chandler confirmed as he pulled up his chair. "Where did my coffee go?"  
  
"Sorry," Monica said as she placed the cup in the sink and brought out a new one. "I didn't know if you were coming back for it."  
  
"There are no reasons for me not to," he said seriously, looking in her eyes. She half-smiled in understanding and thanks as she poured fresh coffee in his cup and served him two waffles.  
  
After they finished eating, Chandler looked at his watch. "Whoa! We better get you out to that bus, kiddo."  
  
"Okay," Emily said as Monica helped her into her backpack and handed her money for lunch. "Are you coming with us, Mom?"  
  
"C'mon, Mon," Chandler said. "Let's get some coffee after."  
  
"All right."  
  
"Ready, punkin?" Chandler looked down to Emily.  
  
"Ready!" she pronounced and slipped one small hand in Chandler's and the other in Monica's. He smiled at her over the little one's head as they left.  
  
"We'll be back later, Joe!" Chandler called back to Joey, who waved in acknowledgement.  
  
  
  
New York was chilly that morning. Monica wrapped her coat around her, and automatically checked to make sure Emily's was buttoned up. Again she couldn't help but become nostalgic as Emily swung up in the air, using both of their hands for support. She was so proud of her daughter, who was just like her, down to the jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes.  
  
At the bus stop, Emily had to stomp her feet to keep warm, and Monica could see her breath in cloudy vapors as it dissipated in the cold winter air.  
  
Chandler kept shooting meaningful looks towards Monica, who purposefully avoided them. The time passed slowly, with each moment becoming more awkward, not knowing quite what to say to the other.  
  
The loud grinding sound startled Monica as the large bus came into view and slowed to a stop. Both Monica and Chandler hugged Emily goodbye, and watched as she got on the bus. After the large vehicle pulled away, Chandler turned to Monica. "Shall we?' he gestured down the street, towards Central Perk.  
  
She smiled in response and they walked briskly to the small coffee shop. The inside was warm and inviting, and Monica sighed contentedly as she sank into the soft orange of the couch.  
  
Chandler went to the counter and ordered two cappuccinos, then sat down in the green chair opposite Monica. "Mon."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Listen," he said, then hesitated as he tried to find the words to say. "What are you going to do about Paul?"  
  
She was silent as she looked down at her hands that were nervously playing with the fabric of her long wool skirt. "Nothing," she finally said. "I'm not going to do anything."  
  
"Monica-" Chandler objected.  
  
"No, Chandler," she interrupted him. "I just can't put Emily through this kind of shit, okay?"  
  
"Monica," he said gently. "Emily is the reason that you need to do something."  
  
A stray tear fell quietly as she nodded slowly. "I know," she whispered as her eyes searched his pleadingly, "but I just can't." She offered no explanation, and he felt his eyes brimming with tears as he saw the pain in her features. Anger flooded him, and he had the overwhelming urge once again to find Paul, and to kick his sorry ass for hurting one of the most beautiful people he knew. If only things had been different. If only he had the courage to make a commitment for once in his life, then maybe he could have told Monica exactly how he felt.  
  
He shook his head violently, scolding himself for even thinking that, and turned his attention back to Monica, who had stopped crying and was sipping coffee.  
  
"Listen, Mon," he said softly. "I'm sorry if I'm being a pain in the ass. I just hate to see this happen to you."  
  
  
  
She smiled gratefully as she spoke. "Thanks."  
  
He took her hand in his as he said earnestly, "Anytime."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Emily Renee Grayston," Monica said sternly, putting her hands on her hips. "How many times today have I told you to clean up your room? It's nearly bedtime."  
  
"Aw!" Emily protested loudly. "It's not even that messy."  
  
"Not that messy?" Monica repeated incredulously, scanning the floor littered with Barbies and stuffed animals. "Sweetheart, you have no idea how tame I've become," she mumbled under her breath.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," Monica replied. "Clean."  
  
"Okay," Emily whined as she bent over to pick up a stuffed zebra.  
  
"Thank you, cutie," Monica winked as she walked out the door and into the living room to see Paul sitting on the couch, looking frustrated. "Hi," Monica said uncertainly, shutting Emily's door.  
  
"Hey," he replied softy.  
  
"Paul-" she started.  
  
"Monica-" he said at the same time, and they both smiled awkwardly.  
  
"Listen," he continued, "I want you to know that I feel awful about last night. I love you so much, and I never want to hurt you."  
  
He kept talking, but Monica was still considering his previous words. Never hurt me, she thought. Desperately she struggled to grasp his promise and believe it. She couldn't quite make herself accept his assurances. Feeling as though she would faint, she dropped down into the large armchair and listened.  
  
When he finished, she nodded with tears brimming. "Okay, Paul."  
  
He looked up from his lap hopefully. "Monica, you mean the world to me. You know that." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
As her mind desperately tried to prevent it, her head nodded again with a mechanical motion. "I know." It came out as a whisper. She allowed it out; just as she allowed herself to be drawn into his arms, allowed his lips to whisper in her ears, allowed her body to be led into the bedroom, and wept silently as she allowed him to make love to her.  
  
  
  
  
  
There is an interim, a time between sleep and waking, that the sleeper is content, satisfied. Monica, for just one glorious instant, enjoyed the torrent of peace that she had been starving for.  
  
The harsh reality of morning shattered her happiness to jagged pieces. Her eyes opened, forcing her to confront the day ahead. Protesting silently, she rolled over on her stomach and buried her head among the pillows. The alarm clock chose that precise moment to ring, piercing her ears as she flipped over and slammed the snooze button.  
  
Her body moaned with exhaustion as she stood slowly. In the bathroom, she took her pajamas off to shower and gasped at her reflection.  
  
Violent red marks slashed across her abdomen. Rounded imprints, some through the skin, were scattered across her breasts. Bruises of differing shapes and sizes marked her legs and arms, mostly on the thighs and above a sleeve's length on the arms.  
  
As her eyes spilled crystal tears, she remembered the previous night. Recalled how he lay her down, crushing her with his weight as his body rested on hers. Whispering words of adoration, he first caressed her, his hand growing more possessive and rough by the minute. Soothing touch soon turned to abusive assault. When she struggled, he would hit her. When she cried out in pain, he would tear at her with his teeth to cause more. And when he took her, his nails ravaged her back and stomach without mercy.  
  
Stepping into the shower, Monica screamed in agony. A sharp, stabbing pain tore through her pelvis like hot iron. Her head swam with darkness as she clutched the air in aimless attempts of grasping support. Sliding down the slick wall of the shower, her body came to rest in the corner, the pressure of the water still beating down upon her. 


	3. Find Me

Chandler came out of his room with glazed eyes and mussed hair. Walking to the kitchen, he opened the cabinet and pulled out a box of Honey Comb.  
  
The other bedroom door opened and Joey stumbled out. "Mornin'," he said quietly.  
  
"Morning, Joe," Chandler replied as he got out a bowl and spoon. "Cereal?"  
  
"Nah, I think I'll make pancakes."  
  
Chandler nodded, then stopped and turned to face his roommate who was just sitting on the barca lounger. "Uh, Joey?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Just out of curiosity, why are you going to make pancakes?"  
  
Joey looked towards his room, then back at Chandler sheepishly.  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
"Aw, but she was hot!" Joey whined.  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"Well, we were both at this club near the park, and she was crying over some boyfriend or something, and was saying how she needed someone kind and sensitive."  
  
"And?"  
  
Joey winked and smiled his Joey-smile. "And I'm sensitive."  
  
Chandler rolled his eyes as he searched the refrigerator for milk. Pulling out a carton, he opened the top and poured it over the cereal. Chunks of curds came spilling out from the container, and he tipped it upright abruptly.  
  
"Joey, what's with the milk?"  
  
"The milk? What's wrong with it?" he replied, flipping through the channels on the television.  
  
"It's chunky."  
  
The barca lounger swiveled around, and Joey moaned. "Ah, man! I thought that was mayonnaise!" Slapping his hand over his mouth, he leapt up and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door.  
  
Snickering, Chandler dropped the carton in the trash and walked out the door. Maybe Monica had some extra milk.  
  
Opening the door, he had a strong sense that something was wrong. Monica should have been up by now, fixing breakfast and getting ready for work. "Mon?" he called out softly. He checked on Emily and found her sleeping peacefully. Closing the door quietly, he walked across the apartment to the bathroom and knocked softly on the door. The shower was running, and steam was coming from under the door. Pounding on the door, he called her name again, and heard no response. The door was locked, and his panic was building. Finally he reared back and rammed the door with an almost inhuman force. His attempt was unsuccessful, and his shoulder was now throbbing. Unfazed, he slammed against it with more force. This time the door bent slightly and the lock popped.  
  
The first thing he noticed was the steam that filled the room, immediately flattening his hair to his scalp. The second thing was Monica, and his heart broke. "Monica!" he called again as Paul came running in to the bedroom.  
  
"What the hell happened?" he demanded.  
  
Chandler turned to him with eyes of fire. Hatred swelled in his stomach, and he had to fight to keep his fists from firing. "You bastard," he growled. "You son of a BITCH! You did this to her!"  
  
Paul stepped forward, but Chandler stopped him with his face. "You stay away from her, do you hear? Stay away, or I'll make sure you're in jail for this."  
  
Paul looked at Chandler one more time, then back at Monica. Backing from the door, he turned and fled the apartment.  
  
Chandler turned back to Monica's bare body, pulling her out of the shower by her arms and torso. "C'mon, Monica," he pled, then looked down, shocked, as bright red blood began spilling down her thighs. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" he yelled, then ran to the phone and punched in 911.  
  
"911, what is your emergency?"  
  
"It's Monica! She's bleeding!"  
  
"Sir, please calm down. What is your name?"  
  
"Chandler Bing. Please, you have to send an ambulance!"  
  
"All right, Chandler, I'll need some information from you."  
  
Chandler gave the operator the address.  
  
"An ambulance will be there shortly."  
  
Not even bothering to hang up, he threw the phone on the couch and snatched up the blanket on its top. Running back to Monica, he covered her with it, and put a towel under her head. As he lifted her hair from her eyes, she moaned softly and her eyelids fluttered. "Cha…" she trailed off, and her eyes shut again.  
  
He looked at her, and tears spilled like rain. Looking towards the door of the apartment, he whispered only one word. "Hurry."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Within ten minutes, sirens could be heard faintly from a distance, and it wasn't long before three paramedics came rushing in the apartment. "Chandler Bing?" one of them asked.  
  
"I'm Chandler," he replied, the worry evident in his eyes.  
  
"What is the victim's name?"  
  
Chandler's stomach lurched at the word victim, and he shut his eyes briefly. "Monica. Monica Gellar. She's twenty-eight years old, and I just found her in the shower like this."  
  
"Where did these bruises and marks come from?"  
  
Biting his lip, he forced his answer. "I can't be sure."  
  
The EMT looked down at Monica's pale face, then back at his coworkers. "Okay, boys, let's hoist her up."  
  
The other paramedics busied themselves with putting the headboard under Monica's body, and Chandler sank onto the couch tiredly.  
  
Emily's door opened, and she came out tiredly, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and clutching Peeky, her old teddy bear. "Chandler? Where's Mommy?" Her eyes found the blanketed body, and tears spilled down her red cheeks. "Mommy!" she screamed, and ran towards the paramedics.  
  
Chandler leapt up and threw his arms around Emily, who squirmed against him. "No! I want my Mommy! I want my Mommy!"  
  
New tears filled his eyes, and he wept with her, still holding her tight against him. "Mommy has to go to the hospital now, Ems."  
  
The paramedic team left with Monica, and the leader called back softly to Chandler. "Mr. Bing, she'll be at Beth Israel."  
  
Emily pulled back from Chandler slightly to watch them leave, then turned back to him, her lips quivering with sobs. "Is…is Mommy going to die?"  
  
Chandler pulled her almost violently to him, and she lay her head on his shoulder, and wept.  
  
Left alone to wonder.  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: I know this is short, and you'll have to forgive me, but life is so busy right now. I will update whenever I can, so keep checking back.  
  
-Amberlynn 


	4. Life is Precious

Chandler paced the hall outside her room, shifting to avoid the nurses that hurried down the corridor. He raked through his hair with one hand, and question after painful question exploded in his mind. His head felt as though it might burst, and the night was not yet over.  
  
When he reached Beth Israel Medical Center, he realized that he forgot to call the others. He called everyone, including her parents. Astoundingly, no one answered his or her phones except Joey.  
  
"Shit," he had cursed as Chandler told him the news. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"I don't know, Joe," Chandler had replied tiredly. "I just don't know. They won't tell me anything."  
  
"Dude, I'll be right there, okay?"  
  
"Chandler?" He felt a tug on his sweatshirt and turned to see Emily's pleading eyes. God, his heart broke even looking at that expression.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
He nearly broke down, but shook his head furiously. "I'm fine, little one," he whispered hoarsely as he drew her into his arms.  
  
"It's lonely out there with Uncle Joey," she said sadly. "When will I see Mommy?"  
  
"I don't know, Ems," he replied, tears threatening to spill. "Why don't you go sit with Uncle Joey, and I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Emily agreed hesitantly. As she turned to go, she looked at him again. "Chandler, I love you."  
  
That was it. He ran to her, nurses be damned, and picked her up in his arms. "Oh, sweetie, I love you too, so much," he cried as the tears now fell.  
  
Emily cried too, her face buried in his neck, her tears staining his sweatshirt. Joey rounded a corner to see them, and his eyes were reddened as well. Chandler saw him and motioned him over. He turned Emily over to Joey, who picked her up and held her as he left for the waiting room. Chandler looked around to find a door marked "Chapel." Turning the doorknob, he stumbled inside.  
  
The chapel was simple, with a few rows of seats, a small pulpit up front, and four small stained-glass windows that glowed with light. Chandler sat in a chair in the back, and dropped his face into his hands. This time, the tears came without restraint, as there was no one else in the room.  
  
"I've never prayed before," his voice sounded forced and filled up the room easily. "But I'm terrified. I'm scared that I'll never see her again, and that makes my heart ache horribly. Please, just let her be all right. Please." he broke down, slipping from the chair to his knees on the floor and crying. "I love her," he managed to whisper into the emptiness.  
  
"Mr. Bing?" A hand rested on his shoulder, and he peered through tearstained eyes to see a beautiful woman clothed in white, her blond hair shining in the light from the windows. She looked almost like.  
  
"You may see her now," she said, her eyes saddened by his. She knew that he was not the husband, but anyone could see just how much he cared. Reaching for his hand, she grasped it lightly to give him support, and led him out of the chapel and into the hallway. "She's asking for you," she informed him as he glanced at her nametag. Joy. Her name was Joy. They walked down the hallway, and stopped outside the room. "Mr. Bing, I need to tell you," she began hesitantly, and he turned to her, fearing the worst. "She's not fully conscious yet, but she has been murmuring your name. She's on a heavy sedative and painkiller, so she may not be fully alert for awhile."  
  
He nodded without really listening and managed to thank her. Opening the heavy wood door slowly, he peered around it and walked in, shutting it behind him.  
  
Monica was under several blankets, but still shivering slightly. Her head and torso were raised in the bed. An intravenous line ran into her forearm, and the quiet swishing of the pump was the only thing to be heard. She lay deathly still, and Chandler hated how pale she looked.  
  
"Oh, God," he whispered, fighting to keep his composure for her sake. He sank down into the chair beside her bed and took her hand in his, stroking it softly. It was chilled.  
  
"Monica," he whispered, feeling the words course through him as they left his lips, "you can't do this.you can't let him win." He trailed off as the sobs constricted his throat, and he dropped his head to her thigh, his tears staining the pink blanket. "I love you so much, Mon," he murmured into the soft fabric.  
  
"Mmmph.mmm."  
  
Chandler shot up. "Monica?"  
  
Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned. "Chan." her eyes closed tightly with the effort, then squinted and opened again. "Chandler, you're."  
  
"I'm here," he finished for her, his hand stroking her hair tenderly. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like a semi truck slammed into me. I feel achy all over, and sore. What happened?" She managed slowly.  
  
"I don't know," he said as the door to her room opened, and a woman in her 50s, with gray hair and silver glasses walked in.  
  
"Hello, Miss Geller," the woman smiled warmly. "And you are.?" she asked, gesturing to Chandler.  
  
"Chandler Bing, a friend," he offered.  
  
"Mr. Bing, my name is Dr. Roberts. May I ask you to step outside while I talk with Monica?"  
  
Chandler nodded, but Monica shook her head slowly. "I want him here."  
  
"All right," the doctor acquiesced. She took a seat and looked into both faces hesitantly. "Monica, I'm here to tell you what happened. Did you know that you were six weeks pregnant?"  
  
The deep blue eyes lightened as she asked, "Pregnant? No, I had no idea. I missed my period two weeks ago, but I thought that it was from stress." Suddenly, realization dawned. "Was pregnant?"  
  
Dr. Roberts nodded. "Monica, there was an extreme stress to the fetus, causing a premature uterine detachment."  
  
Monica's eyes filled with tears. "A miscarriage?" she whispered.  
  
The obstetrician was silent, but her eyes were saddened. "I'm sorry, Monica." She glanced at Chandler, and then stood. "I'll leave you two alone. If you need anything, have the nurse page me."  
  
Neither Chandler nor Monica heard the door close, for as soon as the doctor left, Monica buried her face in Chandler's neck and wept.  
  
I'm sorry that this installment took so long.I've been so busy all summer, and I lost part of my story from the computer.please leave reviews! ( 


	5. I Want Something More

Monica shivered slightly, and Chandler immediately pulled the covers over her shoulders, rubbing her arms comfortingly, at a loss for words.  
  
Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, and anger grew in the pit of Chandler's stomach. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Why Monica? Why did she have to be with someone like Paul, who only degraded her? Why a miscarriage? If it were his, and she were his-  
  
The door opened, and Chandler saw the last person he would ever have expected stride in. Paul.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Chandler growled, waking Monica, who stared at her husband silently.  
  
Paul looked startled, then scared. "What happened to her?" he demanded weakly as Monica simply looked at him.  
  
"What happened to her?" Chandler repeated, rising from his chair and balling his fists at his side. "You have got one hell of a nerve, Paul."  
  
"Now listen for just a-"  
  
"No, you listen, you worthless bastard!" Chandler spat, losing control. "She is my best friend, and I'll be damned if you ever come near her again. If I ever see you again, and I mean ever, I will personally see to it that you suffer as she has suffered, bruise for bruise, scar for scar, blood for blood."  
  
Paul hesitated a second too long, and Chandler felt his blood boil as his fist launched out and connected squarely with his opponent's jaw.  
  
Blood streaming from his lip, Paul looked to Monica, who simply said, "I want a divorce, Paul."  
  
  
  
Monica was discharged from the hospital three days later, with news from Dr. Roberts that her fertility was intact. The news meant absolutely nothing to her.  
  
Chandler helped her settle into the apartment, and Emily was staying with Ross. Both noticed that Paul had indeed moved out.  
  
An empty beer bottle sat on the counter by the sink, the only reminder that was left of her husband. Monica picked it up, rolling in her palms.  
  
Suddenly she exploded in a warlike scream, throwing the bottle with all her might, sending it crashing to the floor.  
  
"I hate you!" she yelled in pain. "I hate you for what you did to me!" She swept her hands quickly over the table, where dishes were set, sending them to their demise. "I hate you for ruining my life!"  
  
Chandler pulled her into him, holding her in an almost vice-like grip.  
  
"I hate you!" she screamed again, and then lost it, collapsing into Chandler's arms and sobbing hysterically.  
  
Chandler guided her to the couch and sat her down, her high-pitched sobs muffled by her head pressed into his shoulder and neck.  
  
"I'm here, Monica," was all he whispered as he rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
Her sobs were the only sound, filling the apartment with the last remnants of her pain.  
  
  
  
Two hours later, Monica dozed off on the couch, and Chandler covered her with a blanket from the bedroom. He stayed next to her through the night, sleeping every few minutes, but always alert to her movements, in case she awakened.  
  
A few times, she stirred and mumbled incoherent phrases. A single tear gathered on her eyelashes, and trailed slowly down her cheek.  
  
Rachel opened the apartment door, and stopped at the sight of Monica on the couch, and Chandler sleeping on the chair next to her. Walking quietly into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator for a soda.  
  
Chandler's eyes opened at the sound. Rachel waved, and he smiled tiredly in greeting as he rose and walked to the table. Rachel poured the drink in two glasses and slid one over to him as she sat.  
  
"How is she?" she asked in a low voice as she sipped.  
  
He shook his head as he answered, "She's fine, physically. Her pain is gone, but she's still pregnant, as far as her body knows. It's killing me to see her like this." His eyes darkened, and Rachel noticed.  
  
"You know what, Chandler," Rachel mused, her chin in her hand, "She deserves you."  
  
"What makes you say that?" he asked, taken aback.  
  
Rachel only smiled as she finished her drink. Standing, she kissed him quickly on the cheek as she left.  
  
She stopped at the door. "She deserves you, Chandler," she repeated. "She just needs to realize that." Waving again, she left.  
  
  
  
  
  
A week later.  
  
"Hello, Monica," Dr. Roberts smiled as she entered the small exam room. Monica only nodded in acknowledgement, pulling the paper gown around her tightly.  
  
"What I'm going to do is feel your abdomen for any abnormalities, check the vaginal canal for discharge and/or bleeding, and then we'll talk for a bit."  
  
Monica nodded. "Will it hurt?" she asked quietly.  
  
The doctor shook her head. "It shouldn't," she assured her patient as she stood and approached the table. Monica lay back, and the obstetrician drew the paper gown up to the chest. Pressing down on her abdomen, Dr. Roberts informed her to say if she felt pain.  
  
Monica scrunched her face slightly when the doctor's hands pressed above her pelvis.  
  
"A little sore there?" Dr. Roberts asked off her reaction.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That should disappear in a couple of weeks," Dr. Roberts said as she donned a pair of exam gloves. "Have you noticed any vaginal bleeding since you came home from the hospital?"  
  
Monica shook her head. The doctor did a quick check of the vaginal canal, then threw the gloves away and washed her hands.  
  
"Well, Monica, you seem to be fine," she smiled reassuringly as she sat down. "I just need to ask you a few questions. Can you think of any activities or occurrences that may have triggered this?"  
  
Monica was silent, but her eyes were pained. Dr. Roberts noticed.  
  
"Monica," she said in a motherly tone, "whatever you tell me will not be divulged to anyone who does not have clearance, but I need to know, so I can effectively treat you, okay?"  
  
One tear escaped from her eye, and she dropped her head. Looking down at her lap, she told the doctor everything she remembered about that night.  
  
When she finished, there was a silence in the room. Monica kept her head down, and the tears dropped on the white paper.  
  
The hand on her knee caused her to look up.  
  
"I'm proud of you," the older woman whispered. "What you told me took a lot of courage."  
  
Monica's eyes met the silvery-blues of her doctor.  
  
"This has been ongoing, I assume?"  
  
Monica nodded.  
  
"Are you planning to report him?"  
  
"No," Monica shook her head. "Chandler, my friend, threatened him and he left, for good."  
  
"Are you sure?" the doctor replied. "If he ever comes in contact with you, and does lay a hand on you, then what?" she asked with concern.  
  
"Then I go to a lawyer," Monica replied with certainty. "Listen, Dr. Roberts, what happened to me hurt. But I have friends, and I'll be okay, eventually."  
  
"All right, Monica," she responded after a short silence, "you're recovering nicely. Stay at home for a week longer, and then take it easy with physical activity of any kind. Your body is slowly shifting to the recognition that you are no longer pregnant. Sometimes it takes a while. If you have any questions, or if you notice any excessive bleeding, call the hospital, okay? They can page me, or tell you to come in."  
  
The two women stood, and Monica shook her doctor's hand. "Thank you for being so supportive," she whispered.  
  
"You're very welcome," Dr. Roberts smiled. "Keep me posted on how you're doing."  
  
"I will," Monica promised as she retrieved her purse. "Thanks again," she said as she left.  
  
  
  
"Hey," Chandler greeted as he walked through the door with Emily, who immediately ran to her mother and hugged her.  
  
"Mom, guess what me and Chandler did today?"  
  
"Chandler and I," Monica corrected.  
  
"Chandler and I," Emily repeated in a monotonous tone, rolling her eyes.  
  
"What did you do?" her mother asked, her eyes shining.  
  
"We made scary faces out of cardboard and scared Uncle Joey."  
  
Just then, Joey walked in. "Hey, there you are!" he said as he saw Emily. "C'mon, we're gonna scare the chick and the duck."  
  
Emily jumped up and ran with Joey to the apartment across the hall.  
  
"So how'd the appointment go?" Chandler asked, sinking onto the couch beside her.  
  
"Fine. She says everything is normal."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," he replied softly.  
  
"I need a favor," she said just as quietly.  
  
"Anything."  
  
"I've made an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow to sign the divorce papers. Will you come with me, you know, for moral support?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Thanks," Monica smiled wearily. He opened his arms and she accepted him, laying her head on his shoulder.  
  
He sat quietly, content with the silence that enveloped them both, until she spoke.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Monica whispered timidly.  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"This," she repeated, straightening and motioning between them. "You're always the first one there. You found me when I had the." she hesitated for a second. "The miscarriage," she forced out. "You were the first one to see me in the hospital. You were the one who brought me home. Why have you done all this?"  
  
He swallowed hard as his mind struggled to form an answer.  
  
"B.because.God, Mon, because I hate to see this happen to you. You should be the happiest woman in the world."  
  
"Well, I would love that," Monica replied sarcastically. "But the experiences in my life have done precious little for my happiness, Chandler. Life isn't happy, okay?"  
  
"Mon-"  
  
"No, don't you 'Mon' me!" she interrupted, reading his look and losing control. "Where the hell do you get off telling me that I could be happy? You're the one who will never admit to being happy or fortunate. You don't have a husband who will beat the living shit out of you, given the chance, and the right amount of alcohol. You're not the one who will have to deal with the questions that your six-year-old daughter is sure to start asking once she realizes her father's never coming home again. You're the one who will never end up alone, worrying that the only chance you had at happiness only hurt you and left you broken. Don't you talk to me about happy!" she nearly screamed, her eyes red-hot, as angry tears spilled over.  
  
He stared at her in shock as she stood in front of him, crying silently.  
  
The silence was agony. Monica, full of nervous energy from her outburst, clenched her teeth behind closed lips to check her composure.  
  
Chandler opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it as his eyes lost hers. Without another attempt for words, he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.  
  
She had done it. She had taken it out on him, her best friend, her strongest supporter, and the one who would never hurt her.  
  
The tears quickly dried as she wiped at them with her shirtsleeve. Resting her head on her pillow, her mind could only focus on her mistakes. Marrying the wrong man.having a child with him.  
  
The door flew open violently, hitting the counter with a frightening crack, then slammed shut from its own momentum as Chandler stormed through it.  
  
Monica jumped to her feet at his entrance. "Chandler, what-?"  
  
"Listen, okay?" he interrupted her, his eyes flashing with fire. "I know all about being unhappy. I know exactly how it feels to look to my future and be scared to death. I know what it's like to want something so bad; it tears me up inside every time I see it. But I also know that." he stopped, running his hands through his hair nervously. "I know that I want it," he said, losing steam and volume. "I want to make you happy."  
  
This silence was more unbearable than the last, as his eyes searched hers for a reaction.  
  
I know, I know, I haven't updated in forever, but I've been so busy! Please leave reviews.tell me what you think, okay? ( 


	6. Author's Note

Hi all!  
I know, I haven't updated in so very long, but I want to continue this story soon, and need to know if anyone's interested. Read the story quickly, and leave a review to let me know, okay?  
Cheers!  
Amberlynn 


	7. Heartache

The silence between the two stretched to an unbearable infinity, and both remained where they were, neither willing to move for fear. Monica's mind went blank, and she could clearly see colors dancing before her eyes. Her body lost its will to remain upright, and she sank down into the couch. Chandler's gaze never left hers, and the only movement he made was the steady but rapid rise of his chest with erratic breathing.  
  
Monica let out a quiet sigh of despair, and fresh tears began to fill her eyes. Chandler's eyes darkened at the sight, and he turned and walked out the door, this time letting it shut softly behind him.  
  
All conscious thought deserted her, and she lay down on the couch, allowing the cushions to envelop her in comfort.  
  
Chandler stormed into his apartment, leaving the door open absentmindedly. Joey looked up where he was sitting on the couch with Emily, who was napping. His eyes questioned, but he remained silent. Chandler held up his hand in answer, and kissed a drowsy Emily on the forehead as he headed to his room. The door shut and locked, and Emily woke up and turned to Joey. "Uncle Joey, why is Chandler mad?"  
  
Joey nearly smiled at her innocence. "I don't know, honey," he responded. "I think Chandler's heart hurts."  
  
Emily lay her head on his shoulder in acceptance. "He needs Mommy," she responded. Joey was startled. "What do you mean, sweetie?"  
  
"Mommy's heart hurts too," she yawned, and her eyes closed once again in sleep. Joey smiled at her as he smoothed back her curls, and left her sleeping peacefully.  
  
Chandler sat on his bed dejectedly, and dropped his face into his open hands. "What happened?" he asked softly to himself. He thought he was making an offer that she would jump at, after suffering Paul's abuse. She knew he would never hurt her.  
  
A knock sounded softly at the door. Chandler got up automatically and opened it, revealing his best friend on the other side. "Not now, Joe," he pleaded, and returned to his bed, this time lying on his side. "I blew it."  
  
"You're damn right you did!" Joey exploded quietly.  
  
Chandler looked at his roommate, surprised. "What?"  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I told her I could make her happy, and she wouldn't answer me. She doesn't want me. After all the shit with Paul, I should be a welcome alternate."  
  
"She made the right decision."  
  
"Oh, great, thanks Joe. I always knew you were useful for something. I didn't figure it would be kicking me in the ass when I'm down."  
  
Joey sighed and sat on the corner of the bed. "Chandler, listen. Think about what Monica's going through right now. A potential divorce, a young daughter, and all the abuse she's been putting up with since her marriage day. She's finally coming through all that, and here's yet another guy, showing up with the same promises as her husband. Of course she wouldn't go for that."  
  
Chandler nodded in understanding. "I admit I didn't think of that. But what kind of guy should I be?"  
  
"Her friend," Joey responded insightfully. "Just be her friend, and let her make the decision whether she wants more. Either way, you'll be the best thing for her."  
  
"Joe, when did you become so deep?" Chandler asked.  
  
"My date left a self-help book behind, and I picked it up."  
  
"You know how to read?" Chandler teased, and ducked when Joey threw a pillow at him. "Thanks, man!" he called after his friend as he left. He had a lot to think about.  
  
Monica dozed on and off throughout the afternoon. When she woke up, it was nearly 7:00. She jumped off the couch and headed across the hall. Emily was playing foosball with Joey, shrieking with laughter. "Hi, Mommy!" she said, launching herself into Monica's arms just as Joey scored a goal. "Hey, that's cheating!" she accused him, and he winked at her.  
  
"Are you ready for dinner?" Monica asked her, and she nodded. Monica smiled her thanks to Joey and took Emily home.  
  
During dinner, Emily was noticeably quiet. "What's wrong honey?" Monica asked.  
  
"It's Chandler."  
  
"What about Chandler?"  
  
"He hurt his heart."  
  
Monica started, nearly spilling her juice that she was sipping. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Uncle Joey said his heart hurts. I said he needed you, because your heart hurts too, because of Daddy."  
  
Monica sat in shock at her words, as Emily finished her dinner. "Goodnight, Mommy," she said, kissing her cheek and leaving for her room. Monica kissed her back automatically, still deep in thought. My heart hurts too, she thought.  
  
The next morning, Chandler came over. "Hey," he greeted softly, and she gave a quick "Hi" in response.  
  
"Did you still need me to go with you to the lawyer?" he asked.  
  
"Only if you want to," she said.  
  
He nodded, and then began, "Monica--"  
  
She shook her head, cutting him off. "Chandler, I'm sorry."  
  
"No, I am," he replied. "I talked with Joe and realized that I sounded just like Paul the other day. Making promises, acting like I was your personal savior. Monica, I'm your friend," he emphasized. "I will be there for you when you need me. I want more than that, but I'm being selfish. I love you and Emily, and if you decide that you want me, then you will have me, but I cannot rescue you. Nor can Emily. You have to decide." He grew quiet then, waiting for her response.  
  
She bit her bottom lip in worry, then replied simply, "I love you too, Chandler." She thought some more, and continued, "I'll think about it."  
  
He hugged her gently, and whispered in her ear, "Good answer."  
  
She smiled softly in response.  
  
Please leave reviews!!!( 


	8. If That's Love

The meeting with the lawyer was brief, but Monica was emotionally exhausted from the entire ordeal. She couldn't help but second-guess her decision to divorce Paul. What would this do to Emily? _No_, her mind scolded her, _he is not the kind of father for her_. He's better than no father, she argued with herself. _What about Chandler? _her mind came back with.  
  
Monica jumped visibly, and Chandler turned in his seat to inspect her. "Are you okay?" he mouthed silently, and she nodded, biting her lower lip. He smiled slightly and took her petite hand in his, stroking the top of her fingers comfortingly with his thumb as the lawyer continued to ask questions.  
  
"Well, Monica, I think we have a valid case against your husband. I will draw up the papers, and my office will contact him," her lawyer summarized. "Your divorce should be finalized in about six months."  
  
Monica just nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. _A divorce. I'll be divorced_, was all her mind could process. Chandler shook the lawyer's hand and thanked him for the meeting. Placing his hand gently on her lower back, he escorted Monica out of the office.  
  
Once outside, he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed affectionately. "Are you okay?" he asked again.  
  
"I just want to go home," she whispered.  
  
He nodded, and they walked the distance together.

Later that night, Monica sat on the couch with watching the news, but she couldn't pay attention. So much seemed to have happened to her, and in some ways, she supposed she had grown from the tribulations. Emily lay sleeping with her head on her mummy's lap, and Monica smiled down at her daughter. No matter what, she would always be thankful that she had Emily. She resolved to be strong for her daughter. She would become just as she was before Paul.  
  
Set in her resolution, she switched the television off, and gently lifted Emily into her arms. Carrying her to her bedroom, she turned down the soft pink coverlet and lowered the sleeping girl onto the mattress. Tucking her in, she kissed Emily's forehead. Her daughter immediately turned on her side, clutching her teddy bear that was next to her in the bed. Monica smiled, taking a moment to cement the memory. Emily was growing up so fast. She needs a daddy, came the thought. Monica shook her head to clear her thoughts, and turned the light switch off. She checked to make sure the nightlight came on, then closed the door with a soft 'click.'  
  
In her room, she sat on the corner of the bed and picked up the remote to her stereo. She pressed play for the CD controls, and Laura Pausini's voice floated quietly in the room.

_ If you're gonna break my heart and leave  
Make promises you don't intend to keep  
If that's love then I want no part  
_  
Paul always promised to stop hitting her, and would tell her how much she meant to him. His word would hold until the next drinking binge.  
  
_But if you think that love should last for life  
If you believe it's more than just one night  
If that's love then you've got my heart  
And if you'd rather hold on to your pride  
Than wipe away the tears you made me cry  
If that's love then I want no part  
But if you're gonna be there when I need  
Someone to just hold me tenderly_  
_ If that's love then you've got my heart_  
  
Her mind went back to all the times Chandler held her in his arms, and she couldn't escape the feeling of complete safety when she was enveloped in  
his strong embrace.  
  
_If the kinda love that you bring  
Comes with no demands and no strings  
If in your eyes I see for sure  
That you're the one I'm waiting for  
I'll give my heart, my soul, my everything_  
  
His eyes held the same look of longing, the same passion, whenever he  
looked at her.  
  
_ If I have to let go of my dreams  
Become someone I never never thought I'd be  
If that's love than I want, I want no part_  
  
Her marriage to Paul had changed her. Before, she was stubborn, headstrong, and independent. Now she was broken, submissive, and a victim. But no more.  
  
_ But if you're gonna be that kind of man  
Who's willing just to take me as I am  
If that's love then you've got my heart  
_  
Chandler had told her that he couldn't rescue her. But he was willing to  
be with her, whatever it took.  
  
_Tell me in your arms I'll be safe,  
Where loneliness and fear have no place  
The only thing you have to do  
The only thing I ask of you  
Is give your heart, your soul and your faith  
_  
She felt safe in his arms, always. All he can give me is his heart, she thought, and he's already done so. A single tear fell from her eyes and splashed delicately on the bedspread. Monica watched, entranced as the moisture spread on the cotton comforter. Can I give him mine?  
  
_And if you cannot give those things to me  
Then I just have to tell you honestly  
If that's love I want no part  
But if you say you've finally found in me  
The only place that you could ever be  
If that's love you've got my heart  
If that's love baby you've got my heart  
If that's love  
If that's love  
If that's love baby you baby you  
You've got my heart  
  
_Monica crawled under the covers, and snuggled deep into the mattress for warmth. Clutching her sheets tightly in one fist, she fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
The next morning, she was jolted awake by Emily, who streaked into her room and jumped on the bed. "Mama, get up! Get up!" she giggled. "Flowers for you!"  
  
_What on earth?_ Monica thought groggily as she struggled to disentangle herself from the bedsheets. She followed a bouncing Emily into the living room and gasped aloud in shock.  
  
_Hundreds_ of roses filled the living room and kitchen. Monica turned slowly, taking in the brilliant shades of yellow, pink, white, lilac, orange, and red. On the table, a trio of crystal vases boasted six dozen blood-red roses with baby's breath nestled in between. A small paper envelope lay on the base. Monica picked it up and turned it over. The envelope was sealed by a small circle of red wax. She broke the seal and read:  
  
_One word frees us  
  
Of all the weight and pain in life,  
  
That word is Love  
_  
Monica smiled. "Who are they from, Mama?" asked Emily.  
  
"I'm not really sure, sweetie," she responded.  
  
"I think you know," came a voice from the doorway. Monica looked up in surprise. Chandler and Joey stood in the hallway, Chandler's eyes fixed on Monica. Joey looked between the two of them and smiled. "C'mon, cutie," he winked at Emily. "Let's go watch cartoons."  
  
"Yay! Cartoons!" Emily was easily distracted and followed Joey into the apartment across the hall.  
  
The door shut, and neither Monica nor Chandler moved. Both stared intently at the other's face, trying to discern each expression. Monica remained stoic and frozen, simply breathless at the look of intensity in Chandler's eyes.  
  
Chandler let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and felt an immediate lightheadedness. He slowly walked towards Monica, whispering:  
  
_To love a person is to learn the song  
  
That is in their heart,  
  
And to sing it to them  
  
When they have forgotten.  
_  
"I know who you are Monica," he said softly when he reached her and held her hands in his own. "I know your heart, your fire, and your life. I know your song," he referred to the poem. "I want you to remember it again." He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers before giving her a chaste kiss. "If you'll let me, I will teach it to you."  
  
Monica's head was spinning. She couldn't think or speak. All she could do was look back at him evenly, still devoid of emotion. Not because she didn't feel something, but because she couldn't express it, it overwhelmed her so.  
  
Tears began to form and Chandler let go of her hands and wiped them away with his thumbs. "I promise you that we will argue," he said quietly. "I promise you that the times ahead for both of us will be troubled. But I can also promise you that the only tears you cry because of me will be from happiness."  
  
Monica nodded, still crying silently. "So this is what happiness feels like," she whispered.  
  
Chandler smiled and placed his hand on her cheek, stroking gently. "I love you, Monica."  
  
"I love you, too," she replied, feeling a heavy weight being lifted from her. Relieved, she leant forward and met his lips in a tender kiss, throwing her arms around his neck, still crying tears of happiness.  
  
_I know, sappy! But hey, who can resist a corny ending now and then. Should I write an epilogue? It all depends on the reviews I get. PLEASE go to my website (newly redesigned) and leave a message in my guestbook! It's horribly empty! _

_P.S. Lyrics are from "If That's Love" by Laura Pausini. Letter from Chandler is a quote by Socrates, but what he recites to Monica is by an unknown author. Cheers!_


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